Word Count: 550 words.
Fandom: Life on Mars.
Notes: When fandoms collide. Two of the characters in this offering are from the Kids in the Hall. I was trying to think of two ridiculous characters and decided that instead of coming up with my own, I’d do some more textual poaching. Might as well when you’re already writing fan fiction, yeah? So. None of these characters belong to me, they all belong to people with far more talent. This is told from Sam’s point of view, and I’d say it’s set sometime within episodes 2 and 3.
When he first met him, Sam thought “ouch” and “what a bastard” and “get your hands off me, you ape”. Now he was starting to think Gene Hunt wasn’t all that bad. And that was what terrified him, really. When he’d set the scene up as him being the protagonist, and Gene being the antagonist, everything was alright and it made perfect sense. He did things by the book, caught the bad guys the right way, and Gene was self-proclaimed bent as a fish-hook and caught the bad guys the wrong way. The truth loomed out at him. Gene still caught the bad guys. Sam was finally having to admit he preferred things to be black and white instead of shades of grey.
Take, for instance, this moment. There they were, chasing after two clearly insane men who’d just terrorised three separate groups of bank employees and insisted on being referred to as sisters. Sam had said that, as officers of the law, they needed to get in contact with a psychiatric ward. Gene had rammed his front fender into the insane men’s Citroen and proceeded to yell abuse at them. Sam had suggested they wait for back-up, Gene had taken off his camel coat, wrenched the man wearing the red wig into it, and tied him up strait-jacket-like, as he ordered Sam to handcuff the blond.
“Don’t you think, Guv…”
“Spit it out, Tyler.”
“… that we need some kind of medical assistance?”
“Medical assistance my arse, Sammy-boy.”
Everything Gene was doing was wrong. But these two, who’d now started singing “tie a yellow ribbon round the old oak tree”, were currently unable to terrify any more bank employees with song and dance numbers or guns. Different method, same result. Of course, Sam still cringed when Gene thwacked both lipstick wearing men around the head. And he wasn’t entirely sure he liked it much when Gene started to say things like “who’s your master? Me. Listen up. You will do what I say, when I say, how I say it.”
When they got back to the station, the ‘sisters’ were looking mournfully at each other and occasionally uttering, ‘Jerry. We’re caught, Jerry. We’re lost, Jerry. I love you, you wonderful scamp’, or something to that effect. Wearing dressing-gowns and pyjamas, they were more annoying than anything else. They got placed in separate cells and were unlikely to cause any harm for the time being. Gene was the picture of happiness.
“A good day’s work as they say.”
“They didn’t actually steal anything, though, did they?”
“No, but not for lack of trying.”
“I know, but don’t you think you were a bit rough on them?”
“I’ve seen these types before. You have to get it into them quick-like that what they’re doing is not conducive to general society. Otherwise, the next time, they go ahead and do something worse.”
“You think I just beat them up because I like violence, but you’d be wrong. Soft as a marshmallow, I am. And twice as tasty.”
“I really didn’t need to know that.”
Sam was starting to think that he could learn a thing or two from Gene Hunt, though preferably it wouldn’t be how to mix your metaphors, or which aftershave to use.